


Tapestry

by badass_normal



Category: Prison Break
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-03
Updated: 2009-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-11 01:12:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/106633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badass_normal/pseuds/badass_normal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>15 drabbles, 15 pairing, 100 words each.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tapestry

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimers: "Brown" is purely transcribed dialogue from episode 2x08. (It speaks for itself.) "Hazel" includes dialogue from 2x09.

**1\. White**

_Mahone/Whistler_

Alex thinks, as he lies on his back with the kisses of another man tracing his pectorals, that it's been too long since someone has touched him like this. The clean sheets slide against their bodies, skin to skin, and Alex can feel the thick heat of James Whistler blanketing him in cold comfort. There's a hardening rod against his stomach, demanding to be taken care of, and he does, relishing the intimacy that must accompany the act when it takes place in a bed. He arches his neck and surrenders to a pair of bruising teeth. He's missed this.

**2\. Red**

_C-Note/T-Bag_

It never lasts long. He and the hick both make sure of it.

And it never goes further than an informal hump against a wall, or maybe if the twisted son of a bitch is feeling generous, a clumsy grope here or there.

They're incompatible. Types A and B sloshed into the same body will end in blood failure, and that's why they don't fuck. Because their Kinds don't mix.

But that's what makes him do this, get it on behind the guards' break room with a fucking Nazi. The thrill of defying nature, and of their clashing rage colliding.

**3\. Pink**

_Michael/Mahone_

It happens when they lock eyes. For one moment, Linc and LJ fade away, as does the entire situation; Michael is no longer a fugitive, this man no longer the enemy.

Suddenly his heart rate has accelerated, and his breathing, as his chest rises and falls, his lips parted in a half-gasp. His face flushes a faint shade of pink. These could be the symptoms of attempting to perform a hasty rescue from an elevator from under the nose of a hyper-intelligent federal agent, but Michael knows better. The adrenaline is pumping through his veins for an entirely different reason.

**4\. Orange**

_Michael/Whistler_

"Are you okay?"

Michael nods, clutches the bars of the window tighter. Doesn't look over his shoulder, because he knows the sheet's up properly. He was thinking of Sucre while they hung it. He isn't now.

Whistler begins gently, but Michael wants to be thrown into oblivion, fucked so hard he can feel Whistler's cock in his throat. Eventually he obeys, hard body beating Michael's into submission with each powerful thrust, skilled hand working him in tandem. Closing his eyes against the glaring fire of the sun, Michael wonders what good the sheet is if everyone can hear him come.

**5\. Brown**

_Mahone/Sullins_

"I have all these dots. And there's just no way to connect them."

"Looks like you need to work on your clearance level, Dick."

"Maybe I'll just work on you."

"You want to do this?"

"I will chain you to this desk until I get some answers I cannot fertilize my lawn with."

"You sure you want to do this?"

"I know what they tell you to do overseas Alex. And let me make it perfectly clear, we do not do it on American soil!"

……phone call……

"Where are you going? I thought we were really starting to get somewhere."

**6\. Yellow**

_Lechero/Sammy_

Augusto wants Lechero dead. Has for weeks. And he's taken Sammy for granted, assuming he'd be willing to stab his best and oldest friend in the back.

Sammy means it when he tells her that he won't do it. He isn't afraid of what Lechero can do to him, because he's known for a long time that the kingpin's not what he used to be. But he's afraid of what it will mean to live without Lechero, without the one man who has ever offered him a relative kindness.

So he allows Lechero to walk. And not because of respect.

**7\. Hazel**

_Michael/Self_

When the other man fixes Michael with a hard, greenish-greyish-brown gaze, suddenly Michael suspects that Don understands what's what much better than Michael's thought all this time. He feels naked, that stare slicing through him and nonverbally communicating an acidic "you don't know anything about me" in response to Michael's own thoughts. And really, he doesn't. Don Self knows him completely, and he knows nothing in return.

Then he's thrown back in time, looking into the blue eyes of a man on a screen. "I know these men. Who they are, where they came from, where they want to go…"

**8\. Green**

_Michael/Lincoln_

When another guy encroaches on his territory, on _his_ Michael…Lincoln can get nasty.

And Agent Alexander Mahone is encroaching.

The Jealousy begins when Michael utters in his perpetually velvety timbre that "there's something about him…" Because Michael simply _can't_ be thinking of another man with such a caress in his voice. For so many years Lincoln has been the sole object of admiration, and now this man is suddenly fucking fascinating to Michael.

So Lincoln later gives his brother the ride of his life. That should take care of things for now, he thinks as Michael's orgasm drenches his abdomen.

**9\. Gold**

_Michael/Padman_

He's researched military history, and one man stands out from the rest over multiple millennia of notable soldiers. It could be argued that Alcibiades single-handedly shaped the course of the Peloponnesian War, virtually decided the outcome with his unpredictability and intelligence. And when Alcibiades was a boy, he was a radiant object of pederasty all over Greece, beloved by Socrates himself.

Jonathan is an aged man, a Socrates, with an interest in the flesh of the younger. Molding steely-eyed protégées into weapons. And making them his. He's already had Christina. Perhaps he can forge an Alcibiades out of her boy.

**10\. Blue**

_Lincoln/Sucre_

Linc rubs his hand over his shaven head. "I don't know what to do, man. Everything's falling apart."

He has a point, Sucre knows. The sheer despondence that radiates off of Linc in waves is contagious, too, and he finds himself wanting desperately to do anything to make it _go away_.

Still, he's not sure how he winds up dropping onto the couch next to Linc, how his hand snakes into the Linc's jeans, and how Linc's finds its way into his. His fist slides rapidly up and down Linc's cock, and he grins when the other man comes first.

**11\. Grey**

_Mahone/Sucre_

The only thing both of them know is that in some capacity the kiss is about Michael. There are so many shades to it, though. There's an ounce of competition, because Sucre is Michael's _friend_ and Alex is Michael's…well, _something_. There's also some mutual despair that they will lose him to the tumor festering in his brain. And of course they're both frustrated at having to share him with Sara and Lincoln.

At any rate, Alex kisses Sucre, or maybe Sucre kisses Alex. It doesn't really matter, because it's being reciprocated now. And soon it's not about Michael at all.

**12\. Indigo**

_Michael/Abruzzi_

He can appreciate the mob boss as a worthy adversary, back when worthy adversaries are something to be sought.

But it's possible that he appreciates rather too much the way John's dark prison PI blues hug his body, his ass, the way he walks with a shit-eating swagger. In fact, there's a thrill that races through his blood whenever John moves in a little too closely, mouth inches from his own. It's possible that butting heads is somewhat akin to foreplay that will never be seen through, never be satisfied. And it's an attraction, a chemistry, that is very disquieting.

**13\. Silver**

_Lincoln/Whistler_

They've got more in common than either would like to think.

They both know what it's like to fuck Michael. They both know what it's like to fall for Sofia. They both know what it's like to be Gretchen's prey.

Of course neither of them _knows_ they have any of this in common when they have their hasty encounter in the back seat of the van, committed through an ethereal, silver haze of lust. They do, however, know that the dislike they feel for one another is sexy. And they both know better than to pass up such an opportunity.

**14\. Violet**

_Mahone/Self_

It occurs to Alex as they kiss that this man was going to have him killed in jail, but he doesn't really care. He only cares about the gentle way Self's teeth graze his upper lip, the way their mouths move together, the way their tongues dance an elegant waltz. He has an agenda, obviously—he needs his mind to be someplace other than Cameron and Pam and Wyatt—but he's pretty sure Self does too. Again, he doesn't care. This isn't about either of them, after all.

He kisses Don Self, and he thinks the world might be collapsing.

**15\. Black**

_Lincoln/Mahone_

A touch has never carried so much weight. Has never said so much with absolutely no words. But sometimes that's Lincoln MO.

_I understand._

_I forgive you._

_I promise._

_You are not alone._

He's reliving LJ's almost-death in that moment, reading it in Alex's body, because he can't see his eyes. His own darkest hour. He imagines Alex's is yet to come.

They embrace, and Lincoln feels for a fleeting second that he is a part of Alex, and wonders if Michael, in spite of his connection with this man, has ever been so close to him. He suspects not.


End file.
